The Scars the Rose Petals Made
by the original killerpineapple
Summary: HPDMScars are ugly things... they can help to remind you of whose bed you should be in every night... I have many scars, and they are all ugly, but it is the last of these marks which are the worst. These are the scars the rose petals made.
1. Scars

Disclaimer: insert acknowledgement of ownershiplessness.

NB: Contains reference to domestic violence. Told from the point of view of Draco. Sorry it's such a downer.

NBB: I can't decide whether to write the next chapter in third person or as a diary entry, and if the latter a diary entry of whom. Please help me to decide, you wonderful people you, or if you have any other ideas I'm open to suggestions.

Chapter 1:Scars.

As I step out of the shower and tie a towel around my waist I catch a glimpse of myself in the large mirror over the sink and turn to face it. I can see from about four inches above my head to my jutting hipbone, and by God it's a dismal image. I keep my eyes fixed on my torso and arms, knowing that if I look into my own face I'll become embarrassed and turn away. For some reason it seems that that would be a dire mistake.

I know that I should be getting His dinner started but try not to think of the consequences lest I start to cry again. I can still feel my recently shed tears tickling my cheeks. I only ever cry in the shower. The water washes the tears away so there's no evidence left.

It's a crime to cry in His house.

The first scar my eyes fall upon is the one leading down from my collarbone to my last rib, on the left side. It's faded now, much less noticeable than nine years ago when it had finally healed, and is just shiny where the light hits it and is slightly raised. I try to allude myself that I don't remember why He gave it to me, but I do remember. It was because I took my shirt off in the garden while tending to the barbeque. It was to teach me modesty.

The next is the jagged ring on my chest, slightly to the left, to remind me that the heart that beats beneath it is His, not mine. Nothing's mine

I seem to recall a few pale drops of blood on the bed sheets connected to that one. Not much. He is always careful. There isn't much more evidence in His house to make anyone suspect the array of scratches, bruises, scars which decorate my body. Always my body, never my face.

Then there's the cigarette burns. I always know when they're coming because He only ever smokes in bed. Once His breathing slows He lights up and starts to smoke. The worst part is knowing that He won't finish it. He doesn't own an ashtray. Why would He need one? I become extremely aware of my naked body and I get so scared I start to wish that He would just hurry up and get it over with before I cry. I can't cry though. Not in His house.

When I finish surveying my chest and stomach I turn to see my back, twisting my head to look over my shoulder. There's a white bandage taped there and I try hard not to press my chin onto it.

There are the usual marks: burns, bruises, scars made with His silver Auror knife and the scratches made with His nails. But there is also the bite mark on my side, a scar three years old. This one had been for no other reason than He had felt pissed off and hadn't bitten before, or since. He says He doesn't like the taste of my blood, and for that I am grateful.

The only other different mark I can spot is on the small of my back. It's a crudely carved lion, dyed black with ink. At the time I was sure He made it all the more painful because I struggled, but the reason He did it was as primitive as most of the others. It is there to prove that I belong to Him (AN: almost wrote 'I belong to Jim' there) How could I forget?

I cringe at my sarcastic comment as I turn to face myself again. I shouldn't be doing this. He could find out. In an absurd moment of terror I think that He's in my head and can hear my blasphemous thoughts. I know that this is impossible but He has a way of knowing things. Everything.

And yet I still don't move.

Even He hates the scars, although He created them. I can see the abhorrence in His eyes as he runs His painfully delicate fingers over them. He is Dr. Frankenstein and my scars (the ones which are really His scars) are His monsters. Only He didn't stop at one. He couldn't.

There is one more type of mark, and these are the worst. There aren't many, only about twenty in all. They are pale brown and smooth, although they start to bubble and flake away now and again, and are roughly tear shaped, about two inches high on average.

Scars are ugly things, although Dumbledores belief that they are useful is a fair comment. They can help you negotiate your way around London underground, save you from Lord Voldemort, remind you of whose bed you should be in every night. It doesn't matter what the scar looks like. That isn't necessarily what makes them so ugly. It's the story behind them that makes them so monstrous.

I have many scars, and they are all ugly, but it is the last of these marks that are the worst. These are the scars the rose petals made.


	2. Nyctophobia

Disclaimer: Guess what I'm going to write. Go on guess. What's that you say? "I own nobody"? How did you know?

NB: I still couldn't decide what perspective to write this in (thanks to everyone who offered suggestions) so I think I'll vary from chapter to chapter. This chapter's a bit less domestic violence-y and not so much of a downer.

NNB: Do you promise to write the Teletubby fic, Moony?

Chapter 2: Nyctophobia.

Draco first knew that he loved Harry in seventh year, the first night of the Christmas holidays.

They were the only two students who hadn't gone home, Harry because he hadn't wanted to and Draco because he hadn't been wanted, and so didn't have to hide how they felt. Draco could still remember the feeling of exhilaration when he and Harry had first walked through the thick, white snow covering the castle grounds, hand in hand, knowing that there was nobody around to judge or condemn them. He'd felt blissfully happy, and strangely rebellious.

The knowledge of the love he'd guarded from himself surfaced gradually, starting slowly them rushing out suddenly on the night he trusted Harry with his most secluded secret, like a diver soaring through cold, deep water to finally break through to the life-giving air.

That night was probably the night Harry knew that Draco was his property; that he wouldn't leave him no matter what. This knowledge gave Harry the feeling of power and control that he'd dreamt of having. It scared him a little at first, but he got used to it. Why wouldn't he? Draco had given himself freely, hadn't he?

Draco lay on his bed, savouring the cold breeze, which escaped into the room from the open window. Harry leant on the windowsill, watching the ash fall from his lit cigarette down onto the undisturbed snow. He couldn't see it landing on the hard crust because the darkness engulfed the night air about seven feet from the ground, but it happened nonetheless. They didn't talk; didn't have to.

Finally Harry stubbed his cigarette out on the sill and turned to face Draco, a dim smiley lightly tracing his lips. "I better go now." He had leaned down to kiss Draco, but was stopped by Draco's slender finger on his lips.

"Don't go Harry. Please." Harry's eyes narrowed in worry. Draco looked _scared_. Harry had never seen him scared before, and it frightened him, but made him love the delicate boy even more.

"What's wrong?" Draco looked doubtful for a moment, and then looked into Harry's green eyes with his brilliantly blue ones. In the moonlight they looked almost silver.

"I'm scared of the dark. Well, not the dark. It's not knowing what might be waiting there. I know what should be there, but I don't know if there's something extra. Does that sound stupid?" Draco bit his lower lip and his brow furrowed slightly. Harry lowered himself back into bed and allowed Draco to snake his arms around him and rest his head on his chest. He kissed Draco lightly on the head.

"Of course it doesn't. Don't look so worried. I love you." Harry said he loved Draco a lot, and meant it too, but Draco had never said it back. Harry had tried to pretend that he didn't mind, but there was always an ache in the pit of his stomach when his sentiment wasn't returned. This time the ache didn't come.

"I love you too."

Harry stayed awake most of that night, caressing Draco's fine hair as he enjoyed a sleep empty of nightmares and fear. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that he realised what the feeling boiling deep inside him was.

It was power.

Bdbdbdbdbdbd

As I bend over to pick up my trousers, the ligaments in my side protesting violently, I hear a door slam close by and straighten sharply, almost screaming in agony as I move my bruised muscles at a speed they just can't manage today.

He's home. I start to shake involuntarily because _He's home!_ I haven't done what He ordered me to do that morning and He'll be angry. I sob emptily, my tears used up for today, my last thought circling my head. _He'll be angry, He'll be angry…_

Then I hear the neighbours shouting at their teenage daughter and I know that He's not home. He's still at work, and I've got a few hours left. I'm safe for now.

And yet still I don't move.


	3. Vulnerability

Disclaimer: I own nobody. What would happen if I claimed to own all of the Harry Potter characters?

NB: Sorry I took so long to update. I was going to wait until Moony posted the teletubby fic but I couldn't wait. DAMN YOU MOONY!

NNB: Draco's 'journal'.

**Harry's 'journal'.**

Chapter 3: Vulnerability.

21st December.

I can't sleep, and Harry isn't here to listen to the pain I'm in -the pain _he_ caused- so I've resorted to writing it down, although I know from the days before Harry that this doesn't help.

I wish I could say I hate him but I can't. It hurts even to think it. I still love him, but I don't want to. I should be able to turn my feelings on and off as I please, it's only fair. But instead they just seep slowly through the pores of my skin to allow me some relief before I breathe them back in again.

It's not Harry's fault. It's mine. It was my choice to admit my love (in my bitter state 'love' sounds cheap and tainted) for him, and in doing so I made myself vulnerable. I gave him part of my soul and I can't get it back, but he can twist it and use it against me. He has a hold over me that I'm powerless to overcome. It used to be just an emotional one, but telling him the two things I have never told anyone (or even thought loudly) allowed him to hurt me like he did today.

**Monday. 21. December.**

**I'm sitting in the dark writing this because I can't stand to see myself in the mirror across from me.** **I need to write this down, although I'd rather not, because I need to face what I've done. **

**I hurt Draco today. I didn't mean to. Or, at least I don't think I did. I don't know. I t happened too quickly. My instincts tell me that I meant to do it, that I needed to do it even, to test the power I have over him. But my head tells me that I just lost my temper, that I didn't mean to do it. **

**I think my brain is trying to protect me.**

**When I started I meant to write every last detail down, but now I realise that I don't even remember why I hit him. There I said it. I hit him. I can't remember what we argued about. It was more of a debate than an argument. I remember that he laughed (was that it? Did he laugh at me?) and then I saw the shock on his face and the growing red patch on his pale cheek, and that's when I realised that I'd actually slapped him. My hand tingled, like pins and needles, and I knew that I hit him hard.**

**He looked so hurt. I saw it in his beautiful eyes. He put his hand to his face, as if to assure himself of what had happened, and then looked at me with those amazing, wounded eyes. He told me to stay away from him. I don't blame him, but I can't stay away.**

**When he left I was so confused. I still am. I can still feel the tingling in my right hand (just my imagination, of course) but it feels strange. It feels _good_. Why? When I hit Draco I felt appalled at myself. Ashamed. But not regretful. And I felt so _powerful! _I felt like I had the whole world under my control. I felt that I had control of Draco. **

**Why shouldn't I have control over him? He said he loves me. Unless he was lying, he still does love me, but Draco doesn't lie. Not to me. Yeah. He should be mine. Anything that feels so good must be right, surely? **

**I know that it's wrong to hurt him, worse to _want_ to, but I need that power. It's like a drug, or my nicotine fix. I need it. Who's he to deny me that? No. He's going to help me get it, whether he likes it or not. I just have to tighten my control on him. He _will_ be mine.**

Later 

I'm scared. It's dark now and I have no one to keep me safe. Oh, shit. What's _wrong_ with me? Safe from what? Even if there were something waiting for me, death would be a sweet release from the pain he has lowered me into. I hate myself for making me so open to these emotions. What if I take him back? I can't let him back into my life.

But I can't keep him out either.

Bdbdbdbdbdbd

I cover the scars with the plain blue shirt He bought me last year. He said that he just felt like treating me but I know that it was to say sorry. Not for what He did the night before, or the fading bruises of the previous week, or any of the other scars. It was for the first time He hit me. For that He's still apologising.

As I put on the fingerless black glove I use to cover the rose petal scar on the back of my hand I hear the clock in the dining room and count the chimes. One, two, three, four, five. He'll be home in half an hour. I know that I won't be able to do all of the things He asked me to in that time and wonder vaguely what He'll do to me. It'll probably just be a few bruises, maybe a new cut, but if He's had a bad day I may end up back in the hospital. Not the one we started using two months ago though. The doctors are getting suspicious.

I stay where I am.


	4. Roses

Disclaimer: I own nobody. Not yet anyway. MWAH HA HA HA.

NB. Please R+R. I'll love you forever.

Chapter 4: Roses 

Draco found the first roses on the 23rd, on returning from a solitary lunch. He thought nothing of Harry's absence from the dinner hall. In fact, he was quite relieved by it.

There were half a dozen white roses arranged in a clear vase, a black ribbon tied around the neck, on the bedside table. Draco sat and stared at them- their long thornless, stems; their delicately curved petals; their seemingly pure innocence hiding a pathetic attempt at an apology- for a long time, his conflicting emotions simmering under his pale skin.

In the end he couldn't stand it any more. He fled the dormitory, ambled through the portrait and ran blindly forward. He ran and ran, not knowing where he was going, just needing to get away from those beautiful, complex flowers. Finally he threw himself down by the lake, barely aware of the snow numbing his arms and face, and cried, his tears melting the soft whiteness beneath him.

Harry watched from his window and tears silently coursed down his face to his upward curving lips.

When Draco returned resentfully to the dormitory his breath caught in his throat. He felt the strength leave his legs and, although he didn't collapse or stumble, he couldn't move forward.

The roses were glowing. The light was a misty blue, which seemed to radiate from the centre of each flower and threw light onto the bed and spilling onto the floor. The room got darker the further away from the flowers it was, but the only really dark places were in the corners.

Draco realised he'd been holding his breath and exhaled. The thought of the roses being a mere apology dissipated. He struggled for a moment to place the new emotion he felt for Harry, and was horrified when he recognised it as forgiveness. He covered the short space to the bedside table in two loping steps and dashed the vase against the far wall, sending shards of glass skittering over the wooden floor.

It wasn't until three months later, a little before the marks started appearing on his flesh but a little after he realised that he could never leave Harry, that he noticed the tear shaped burns in the yellowing wallpaper.

Bdbdbddbdbdb

**The number of spells in that small book shocked me, but as soon as I saw it I knew that was the one I needed. That spell would get Draco back _and_ punish him for daring to think that he could leave me.**

Bdbdbdbddb

The next day there was a rose in each of the torch brackets on the walls. They lit the room perfectly, but as it grew dark Draco gathered them and threw them out of the window, the petals lighting the path of their descent.

He slept fitfully, partially because of the darkness, but mostly because he knew that he would take Harry back. He loved him, after all, and nobody wants to spend Christmas alone.

Bdbdbdbddbdbdbd

I remember everything He's ever done to me- the cuts and bruises, the regular hospital visits, the rape, the scars that run too deep to see- and I know what I have to do. I look into my face, no longer afraid that I'll run from it, and see the fear, which has been waiting just under my skin for fourteen years, surface, as it does every time He returns home with a frown and a creased brow. I look into my face, searching for the courage I need and, although I don't see it, I find hope, and that will have to do.

I unlock the door and step into the hall. My legs are trembling beneath me and my heart beats irregularly, like my rasping breath. I start to walk and don't stop until I reach the front door. I open it and carry on walking. He'll probably find me, in years, months, weeks, maybe even moments from now He'll round the corner, and I won't run, although I should.

But I have to try to get away. If I don't He'll kill me. Or worse, He won't.


	5. The Scorch of Tender Kisses

Disclaimer: I own nobody and nothing. What terrible times are these when I don't even have the energy to be sarcastic.

A/N: This may be the last chapter, but it's up to you. Do you want another chapter of my awful writing or would you rather I left it like this?

Chapter 5: The Scorch of Tender Kisses

Friday.25.December

**Merry Christmas Draco…**

Bdbdbdbdbd

25th December

This is the first Christmas at Hogwarts I've suffered a sleepless night. I thought I could live without Harry but it's too hard. I thought I was miserable before him but I've come to learn that I didn't know unhappiness until I experienced the bliss I had with him only to have it cruelly snatched away. I quit trying to stay away from him. I can't stand another Christmas alone. Hell! If I have to bear just one more day without him I'll go mad. Harry's the only one who can fill the gaping void inside me.

Bdbdbdbddb

Draco was woken from a fitful sleep by a feathery touch on his hand. The first thing he thought of was Harry's warm lips and, although it wasn't, he was only slightly disappointed when he opened his eyes.

It was rose petals, hundreds of them, falling from some unseen place by the ceiling. The same misty blue shone from them until they landed on the floor or bed, where they seemed to dissolve and dance back up to the ceiling like dust. Only the few petals that landed on Draco lasted more than a minute, and they seemed to _melt _into him rather than dissolve. It tickled when they landed, like the soft kisses Harry would plant on his neck and shoulders were he there, but something about when they sunk into his flesh made him uneasy. They _hurt._ Not a lot-Draco barely noticed it-but it almost felt like they were burning him.

Gently. Carefully.

Then they disappeared and it was dark again, but Draco wasn't scared for very long. Harry slipped silently into Draco's bed. He lovingly kissed Draco's collarbone and started to make his way up his neck, his touch frantic and needy.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I'm so sorry." His breath was warm on Draco's cheek. Draco closed his eyes and drew Harry closer to him.

"It's okay. I love you."

Harry kissed Draco's mouth, feeling his body arch beneath him, as if sealing Draco's words. Just as he'd sealed his fate.

Bdbdbdbd

…**sweet dreams, my love.**

Bdbdbddb

He sits in the chair in the far corner with a can of beer in His hand. He doesn't normally drink, which makes His violent rages scarier. It means that He's like that without anything working at His brain, trying to make Him tick. The note is on His lap. He looks down and reads it again:

'_A long time ago I told you that I was scared of what was lying in wait for me in the dark. I finally decided that I'd rather go to bed scared that I'll be murdered in my sleep than go to bed scared that I'll still be alive to greet you in the morning.'_

The owl it was delivered by lies in the other corner, the one I used to cower in as He walked towards me, always so slowly. He's angry. He needed something to take it out on and I'm not there, where I should be. The owls' head seems to be too far from its body. The bones in its neck protrude through the matted feathers and its blood trickles down to mix with the faded stains of my own. Its glassy eyes stare up at me, accusing. I should go back, make it right. Accusing. Accusing.

bdbdbdbdbd

I shake the image out of my mind and look out of the window from the camp bed on the floor of the men's' shelter, miles from His house. I shouldn't have sent the note. He'll use it to find me. I sigh, irritated. He can't find me. I left no clues. He can't find me.

I glance out of the window again, hoping to see the tawny owl gliding across the night sky. When I don't, I start to wonder how far from the truth I am.

I look down at my hand and the scar is glowing. I reach under the camp bed and find my glove.

As I pull it on I realise that I'm free. I like the sound of that. I'm free. Free from pain, and fear, and-best of all-Him. I'm free from him.

Fin. Or maybe not. You decide.


	6. A New Life

Disclaimer: I own Gabe! Ha ha ha!

NB: I got quite a few reviews asking what's wrong with Harry, but I didn't really know what was meant by that. He's just a violent, controlling person, which I'm putting down to a traumatic childhood.

Sorry that this chapters so short. It's more of an interlude really. The next few chapters will be longer.

Chapter 6: A new life.

I watch the flames dance before my eyes, flickering and weaving their way up to the sky. They ravenously devour the small pile of belongings from my life before. It's taken me six months to get this far. I have a job as a councillor at a youth centre, I'm taking evening classes in psychology, I have a small apartment.

And Gabriel too. It was he who suggested I officially rid myself of my past life, although he doesn't know much about it. He respects my silence. He knows I'll tell him when I'm ready.

I shiver. The night is still cold despite the warmth from the fire. Gabe wraps his arms tighter around me and rests his head on mine.

"Just one more, then we can go inside." I step out of his hold and take out the slip of paper from my pocket. On it is written one word. I read it, then look back at Gabe. "Don't worry, I won't look." I gaze at the note for a moment longer, trying to hold onto the good times associated with the name on the paper, but the bad memories override them and I toss the paper in as if it were already on fire. I only takes a few seconds before it turns to ash.

Gabe stands behind me and wraps his arms around my neck, his chin resting on my shoulder, and kisses my cheek lightly.

"Wanna talk?" I shake my head briefly. I'm not ready yet. "Come on then." He snakes his arm around my waist and we walk back to my flat, the moon lighting our path.


	7. Deceit

Disclaimer: I own nobody EXCEPT Gabe. He is mine. Mwah ha ha ha ha!

Sorry I took so long to update. I was researching personality disorders and starting a new fic. I promise to writer the last chapter of this before I even think about writing another story.

Please review! I carried on writing after chapter 5 because you wantedme to and I've had all of one review since then. How am I supposed to know if you like it?Weep.

Chapter 7(I think.): Deceit 

Gabe stumbled, laughing, and fought viciously to stay upright, spilling most of the wine from the bottle he was holding. Draco caught him and plied the bottleneck from his grip. He smiled at the shocked, childlike expression on his face and drunken efforts to regain his wine.

"I think you've had enough to drink for tonight." Gabe backed off and stood swaying in the moonlight. His face was flushed from the cold night air and his dark hair swept back.

"Spoilsport. Dance with me!" Draco was surprised into laughing as Gabe started to spin, his head thrown back and his arms raised.

"Stop it! The neighbours are already scared of us!" Gabe stopped and grinned strangely. "What? Oh, shi-" Draco landed on the grass and Gabe almost had the bottle back in his grasp when Draco kissed him. Gabe wrapped his arms around his waist and they lay in the grass together, the remains of the wine left to trickle into the soft soil beneath them.

Bdbdbddbdb

Harry watched in revulsion at their outward signs of affection. His face twisted as he watched them stumble to the ground. He watched Draco's arms snake around his waist. And that's exactly what he was. A snake. A venomous, treacherous snake. But nobody likes snakes, and one day he'd get stood on and squashed and he would deserve it. Harry smiled to himself and carried on watching the two figures below, both of them unaware of the plans he had in store for them.

Bdbdbdbdbdb

"I love you Draco." My heart skips a beat and I start to panic.

"I know you do." My voice sounds cold and alien, but it's better this way. I've broken the one promise I made to myself when I got involved with him. I tried not to fall in love with him. I tried so hard. But it isn't as easy as I thought it would be. I've opened a window and I can't close it. I told myself that I wouldn't let anyone hurt me again, and I'm the one who made it possible.

"You don't have to love me. I just needed to tell you." The disappointment in his voice is crippling and I hate myself for being so selfish as to care more about me being hurt than him. I take his hands but can't manage to look into his eyes.

"It's not that I don't love you! It's just…it's difficult."

"What, you think I won't understand! I've been hurt before as well and I know it's hard, but you have to get over it!"

"I didn't mean that! You know I didn't. You know how I feel about you."

"Then say it." I look into his eyes, begging him not to make me.

"Please don't be like this. You just have to be patient wi-…"

"Oh, Draco, I'm sick of being patient!" Gabe draws away from me and stands up, pacing back and forth across the room. "Every time I try to get close to you, you push me away! I've tried to understand you and I just can't! I don't know how the hell Harry dealt with you all these…" Gabe trails off, a look of horror on his face. How can he know? My heart races as I stand in front of him, and I wonder how long I've lived with his lies.

"How do you know about Harry?" Gabe looks down at his feet.

"I guess you mentioned him or…"

"DON'T LIE TO ME! I'VE NEVER MENTIONED HIM! HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW?" I can feel the hot tears coursing down my cheeks and I hate him for being able to hurt me so much.

"I'm sorry Draco. I saw the paper, before you threw it into the fire. I tried not to look, honest I did. I'm sorry." I feel used, betrayed, but my anger is dampened when I look at Gabe. Somehow it hurts even more than Harry, because Gabe really is sorry and I know I can never forgive him.

I brush past Gabe and lock myself in my bedroom. It's dark but I'd rather deal with my fear than the tumult of emotions churning my stomach. I close my eyes and breathe deeply for a few moments. When I calm down I open my eyes and stare into the black hole before me.

The blue-white light shines in the darkness, coming closer. Coming closer.

bdbdbdbdbdbd

The light illuminates His face until He is stood inches in front of me and I can see the thin lines around his eyes and the light smile playing at His lips.

"Hey, babydoll."

He lifts my hand up and curls it around the rose. I feel a searing pain on my palm, then the light goes out and I can't see Him anymore, only feel His hand forcing mine to embrace the white fire enslaved in the delicate petals.

Hello darkness, my old friend.


	8. Til Death do us Part

Disclaimer: I own nobody but Gabe. I've just thought, if JKRowling uses Gabe in one of her stories can I sue her?

NB: This is the last chapter so please review generously. Actually, this might be my last fic. Dais and Gracie want this fic to last forever (for some reason) and they may kill me.

NNB: I was a bit unsure about this ending so if you don't like it I'll write an alternate one for you. I have the time to do that because I have no life.

Chapter 8: 'Til death do us part.

I pace back and forth in front of the fire. I should have kept it to myself. It's not important anyway. I never wanted to hurt Draco, ever. Why couldn't I keep my big mouth shut? Whatever's wrong with him, he'll get over it. I can't force him to love me. I'd be a fool to try. Should I try to salvage what's left of this train wreck of a relationship? I walk to the door and knock gently. "Draco?" I wait, but he doesn't answer. "Draco? I'm sorry." I go back to the living room and grab my jacket from the back of the chair. He'll come around. If not, then there's nothing I can do about it. As, they say, if you love a bird, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours forever. If it doesn't, it never was. I push my arms into my jacket and walk out into the cold autumn air.

Bdbdbddbddb

"Draco?"

I hear Gabe knock on the door and He puts a finger to my lips. He's barely even touching me yet it still hurts. The wait feels endless, and I feel the skin on my fingers burning inside His coarse grasp.

"Draco? I'm sorry." Fresh tears well up in my eyes and my throat hurts with holding back my scream for help. My tears stay perched on the edge of my eyelid but they mustn't go any further. Years of living with Him has taught me that much. Finally we hear the door close and He lowers His hand, allowing the crushed rose to fall to the floor. My burnt hand bumps against the desk behind me. He moves the finger on my lips and brushes my cheek lightly.

"We can talk now. Gabriel's gone." I start when He says his name. How long has He known that I'm here? Has He known all along? He looks into my eyes and my fear accelerates impossibly. What if He sees the tears? He hates it when I cry. He hates it more than anything else. More than when other men look at me, more than when I make mistakes, more than when we're in public and He can't hurt me until we get home.

"It's okay, baby. You can cry." He's never said that before, and He says it so gently that for a moment I dare to think that He's changed. I step uncertainly into His arms and lower my head to His shoulder. I feel His body tense as the tears soak through His shirt and I can see memories of Him in my mind, nostrils flared and teeth ground together, His fist coming closer and closer to my face.

"He hurt you didn't he, baby? That's why I had to protect you. I didn't want to punish you, but I had to find a way to protect you from whores like him. Do you see why I had to do it? Do you understand?" He puts two fingers under my chin and raises my head so I can see directly into his eyes. I nod and He smiles. "Good. Now we can go back to normal."

Suddenly I realise that I'm beginning to believe Him. I realise that if I don't do anything now, then He'll have His own way, and I'll be back to the life I ran away from. I wonder how long He can keep up the good guy act before I'm back in hospital, before my medical history starts to get a bit more colourful.

He scowls, and I become conscious that I'm shivering. "What's wrong, Draco? Prefer to stay here with that filthy whore?" His hand on my wrist starts to tighten and I feel the small bones grinding together. He grins and I know that He feels it too. "I should have known. But I came here to get you back, and I will have you. Even if I have to take you to Hell with me."

"Harry, please. I didn't say that! I…"

"Oh, don't give me that! I know you too well to fall for it. Maybe I've been too soft on you." I step back, but the desk is in the way and I'm trapped between it and Him. My lip trembles and I clamp my teeth together to save myself from crying. I try to raise my hand to shield my face and He slams it back down, pinning it to the corner of the desk. He moves His face until it's inches away from mine, and I can see the anger in the whites of His eyes.

"Don't. Cry."

Bdbdbdbdbd

Gabe walked into the town centre and sat down. He stared up at the building Draco lived in and contemplated going back. For a moment he thought he heard screaming, but it was gone in an instant, the wind carrying it away and leaving Gabe to stare at the closed window and wonder if Draco had forgiven him yet.

Fin.


End file.
